Deus Ex Machina
by gumcrunch
Summary: Melinda May, after the incident on the bridge. Victoria Hand arrives, with a slight vibe of resentment towards her.


**A/N I think we've pretty much established that I ship May/Ward, but since the show's gotten to it already, I think I'm ready to move on to have another TP. MayHand would be terrific, don't you think? I hope the show wades to that direction somehow. Anyway, here's a little attempt. Let's pretend Hand had another (different) offer to May before Coulson came into her office to blab about buses and red tape- which unfortunately, she said yes to.**

* * *

The pounding whir ratchets violently within a span of seconds, turning into heavy intervals of mechanized slashes in midair, as media copters emerge into view. Rotors slicing through the wind drone over wailing police sirens, hovering over throngs of restless onlookers that have crowded along the exit junctions to the main freeway.

Military and police squads armed to the teeth hold their designated positions behind the barricades. Tense and suspicious, intercepting 'potential threats' as they brace for more attacks. The blaze is not making it any easier for the firefighters. Pipelines have already been redirected to concentrate the city's water supply to the area, but the cloud of smoldering ash and debris still grows wider by the minute. Phones are ringing in the confined offices of local government as frantic citizens all over the city, and higher government bureaus, scramble for the latest update on the situation. News reports from every network seem to have hastily agreed on presenting a singular speculation, that this may be the trigger to the second act of the Battle of New York.

* * *

'_This was your call, Coulson. This was entirely _your_ fucking_ _call._'

Melinda May sits quietly with her eyes shut, images swirling in her head. Judgment is proving particularly elusive as she struggles to push back emotionally-charged thoughts to the back of her mind. A momentary detachment may bring her senses back to reason, distract her from her tingling fingers and thoughts of looming events that may happen sooner than the right time. Events that may happen because of her.

She would think years away from the field and a little maturity would make it less difficult to keep her short fuse in check. Apparently, it still does not work- especially when situations involve brash decisions from superiors. Specifically Phil Coulson.

She clenches her fists. A pair of footsteps approaches the locked door of the cockpit, stops midway, and retreats. The low buzz of familiar voices gains volume as agents from HQ start filtering into the plane.

A knock on the door, and she opens her eyes.

"Agent Hand," her expression remains neutral as she speaks.

"Agent May," the woman greets her with a vague smile, eyes intently focused into hers as she gestures toward the inside of the cockpit. "Would you mind?"

May steps to her side without a word, bowing a little as Victoria Hand lightly brushes past her shoulder. The agent promptly takes the co-pilot's chair without asking.

"I was hoping for a private word with you before I disclose the necessary information to the rest of your team. Please," Hand motions for her to take a seat on the pilot's chair.

May locks the door and proceeds to do as she was asked.

"We have identified Coulson's position," Hand keeps her eyes on May, who keeps her head down and her hands clasped together. No semblance of reaction on her face.

"Military compound, a little more than 220 miles from here. Several units have been ordered to report to the area as soon as feeds from the satellite came in. Right now, however, they are confined to surveying possible entryways. Intel reports say the entire place is manned heavily," Victoria pauses and inhales sharply. "Curiously, HQ has identified most of these… 'soldiers,' ex-mercenaries who have supposedly fallen off the grid years ago. I believe you've had an earlier acquaintance with them."

May clenches her fists. "Coulson—" she whispers.

"We have yet to determine his status," the statement is as flat as it is cold.

"As of now, the most we have on hand are location surveillance, identification; and the intel from your own team is proving very useful. We are currently building up on that as we receive more information," Hand's phone beeps and she takes a second to check it.

"I wonder, Agent May," she looks up and May meets her gaze. "This decision to proceed with the exchange without backup from HQ—"

"We agreed on it as a team."

May's interruption earns her a raised eyebrow and a half-smile from Hand.

"Alright," Hand exhales after a long moment of silence between them. "I would like you to know I appreciate the fact that you had the courtesy to await permission this time-"

She stands up and May follows suit.

"—willing or unwilling as you may be," she gives May a once-over and a smirk. "So, I'm giving you the lead. Our agents have managed to infiltrate the Centipede servers just now. Our units are being given the final orders as we speak."

She sees a glint of hope in May's stoic stance.

"The rest of your team will be ushered to the base for debriefing."

A chopper bearing the organisation's emblem lands on the pad before the plane.

"I believe you're already aware of what you should do," Victoria Hand looks at her, cocking her head slightly but with a faint smile. "Do it now."

A hard knock comes on the door. May moves to open it but stops just before she is able to fully unlock it.

"I understand your trust is with him, May—"

She turns sharply towards Hand. The woman's face is neutral but a deliberate hint of bitterness, and mockery to a slight degree, is present in her voice as she speaks.

"Don't you just wish you said 'yes' to me instead of him right now?"

May turns back to the door and unlocks it without a word. Whether Victoria Hand is pleased to earn some kind of reaction from her clenched jaw or not, she does her best not to think about it. The agent waiting outside the door escorts her to the chopper.

Victoria Hand stays in the cockpit, watching her get on the helicopter. Her face, a picture of vague contentment. Her phone rings and she presses a button as she holds it to her ear.

"Victoria Hand," she says coolly.

"No, there would be no need for that. She is on her way to the location now."


End file.
